Maternal Guidance
by NPYMG
Summary: Legolas' parents don't have much time left on Middle Earth. And they want grandchildren before they leave. Too bad Legolas doesn't really have a choice.


Maternal Guidance  
  


Ever since the quest of the Fellowship, Legolas Greenleaf didn't quite fit in at home. He spent all his time feathering arrows, shooting targets from his private royal balcony, or deep in the woods alone … doing Valars know what. And everyone in Mirkwood had noticed.   
  
His mother was especially perturbed by his actions, and after much deep contemplation, had come up with the perfect solution to her son's strange behavior. She made to reveal her plans to him one night, at dinner.   
  
But unfortunately, most plans don't go as intended …   
  
"Legolas, sweetheart," she began, entering her son's chamber stealthily, "I'd like you to stay home tonight, and have a nice meal with your family. We haven't had a nice family dinner since your uncle sailed. _Three-hundred_ years ago."   
  
Legolas was busying himself sorting through a basket of colored feathers, searching for the perfect specimens to adorn his prized bow. He glanced up at her quickly.   
  
"Sorry, but I already have plans," he mumbled, "maybe later."   
  
"You _always_ seem to have plans. We _never_ see you anymore, Legolas." She pleaded, turning on the guilt. "Your father and I are _worried_ about you."   
  
Legolas snorted, placing the basket delicately on the floor.   
  
"Mother, I'm over 3,000 years old. I can make my own plans." He stretched for a minute, before standing to rummage in a corner for some long, hard, shafts. His mother sighed dejectedly, surveying the room. _Too dusty for an elf _…   
  
"Have you seen anybody since you returned? Any of your friends?" she queried. Her son had never been so socially inept as he was now, and she feared for his reputation; he used to be the most _popular_ elf in all of Mirkwood.   
  
"Yes. A few." He replied, grabbing a shaft and stroking it thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"   
  
"Legolas, when are you going to settle down with a nice girl? I … know you're _different_ from the others, but that shouldn't stop you from-"   
  
"_Excuse_ me? What are you trying to say?" he looked up, agitation written on every pore of his startled face. She walked towards him slowly.   
  
"I think it's time you got married."   
  
"You must be kidding me!" He slumped back against the wall, dropping the hardened length to the floor. "Tell me this is a joke."   
  
"Your father and I have talked, and we've decided-"   
  
"Don't I get a say in this?"   
  
"Of course you do, honey. But this is a difficult time, and-"   
  
"But I don't want to get married!" His eyebrows were twisting and arching in distress. "I'm fine this way. I like being alone. I've always _liked_ being by _myself_. They say you can't really have friends until you're friend with yourself-"   
  
"Legolas, your father and I don't have much time left on Middle-Earth … we've always wished for grandchildren ..."   
  
"Grandchildren? A minute ago I was getting married, now I'm having kids? No. Not happening."   
  
"Children are the gifts of the Gods-"   
  
"You want me to … with a girl … ?" He looked perplexed.   
  
"Yes, that's typically how it's done." His mother laughed.   
  
"I'm not doing it. I'm just not ready yet."   
  
"We just want you to be _happy_ before we leave." She reached out to pat him on the shoulder. "We want this for _you_."   
  
"Leave me alone." He shrugged her off, and walked onto the balcony. She followed.   
  
"Legolas, soon you will be _king_ of Mirkwood. And, one day, you, too, will have to sail West. Who will rule over the forest then? Who will protect this kingdom? It's your _duty_ to produce an heir. Your duty to the _people_. People who love you, respect you-"   
  
"The time of the Elves has passed. There won't be anybody left here when I sail. I am the last of this line." He looked up at the trees. "Soon no one will remember our people save the wind whispering through the leaves …"   
  
"That's warg rot, Legolas." She scoffed. "Don't be silly. You're getting married."   
  
"Mommy, no!" he stamped his foot. "I won't do it. I _won_'t."   
  
"If you don't get married in the next month, your father and I will take away your bow. You'll _never_ go shooting _again_."   
  
"Fine." He set his jaw to hide his pout. "I _don't_ care."   
  
"Oh dear!" His mother lurched forward suddenly, clutching her chest. Legolas grabbed her before she could topple to the ground.   
  
"Are you alright? What happened?"   
  
"Do you see what you're _doing_ to me, Legolas?" She winced. "The _grief_, the _pain_, it's _killing_ me. You're _killing_ me!" Legolas glared.   
  
"Don't even try it."   
  
"But the _ache_, the _hurt_ … you're tearing up my heart! And when I'm gone, you'll feel it too. If you don't get married … no matter what you do, you'll feel the pain."   
  
"Shut up."   
  
"Don't take that tone of voice with me, elfling."   
  
"Bite me."   
  
"For that … you're not seeing your friends for the next hundred years, mister."   
  
"But, Mom," Legolas was indeed feeling the pain now. "Aragorn and Gimli will be dead by then!"   
  
"Well _maybe_ you should have thought about that before." She turned and looked back into the bedroom. "I know none of your friends would ever keep their rooms so disgustingly messy. Why can't you just be like everyone else and function properly? And get married!"   
  
"Why can't you be like every other mother and _leave me alone_!" He shouted.   
  
"I _did_ leave you alone. And just look how you are now! A _failure_!"   
  
"Maybe that's because you're a _bad parent_. Now _go_ away."   
  
"Fine." She walked stiffly through the room and back into the hall. "Clean your room before dinner. I'll be back to check."   
  
"Don't come back."   
  
"Maybe I won't."   
  
"Good."   
  
"I hope you live well. Alone. And when you sail-"   
  
"Goodnight, mother."   
  
"I am not your mother. I _have_ no son. I _need_ no son." And with that, she huffed off to lick her wounds and prepare for round two ... 

- YMG 


End file.
